Some Things Can't Be Forgotten
by wordweaver93
Summary: What would happen if House took on a patient who raped his sole female fellow as a teenager? How would Thirteen deal? T but later M for rape flashback and some language. Reviews are always welcome!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **If I owned any of this, you'd be watching it every Monday night.

**Some Things Can't Be Forgotten **

Thirteen sat idly in her seat as she, along with the other fellows, waited for the arrival of their boss. Foreman was next to her, rubbing circles in the back of her hand as he held it. She knew that no one was shocked when they announced their relationship, it had been a long time coming, but she could see that Kutner, Taub, Cuddy, and even House were slightly uneasy about them being together. Of course, everyone at Princeton-Plainsboro had their own opinion of the two doctors. Cameron and Chase, involved in an office romance themselves, seemed to support the couple, as well as Kutner. Taub figured that they shouldn't bother because of Thirteen's disease; that their relationship would end in catastrophic failure. Cuddy didn't seem to care as long as it didn't interfere with their jobs (though it already had), but the Dean, though she respected her as a doctor, never seemed to like Thirteen as a person. House couldn't stand the two together, as he too thought that their relationship compromised their jobs. Foreman had spoken with her one night before they went to bed, about how he believed that House was jealous of their happiness, or possibly simply of Thirteen, pointing out that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever dated. She smiled fondly remembering that night. After he had said that, she wouldn't let him sleep, at least not until she was done with him. Her train of thought was broken and her mind smacked back to the present as the door to the diagnostics office slammed shut behind House as he limped into the room.

"New case," he said as he shrugged his backpack and coat to the floor. He tossed a copy of the patient's file to each of his new fellows, and upon receiving her copy, Thirteen opened it. She had only gotten as far as the name when her eyes widened with the horror of years past. _Brock Fischer. Damn._ "Twenty-nine year old male experiencing severe shortness of breath, fatigue, and chest pain," her boss continued.

"Coronary Artery Disease," Taub suggested.

"No," Foreman argued. "There's no fluid in the lungs, no angina, no arrhythmia."

"Do you seriously think I would take this case if it was CAD?" House mocked. "That's the first place the ER went."

"Mesothelioma," Thirteen said. "He's a home renovator. He's probably come into contact with asbestos dust somewhere along the line."

"Finally! You're thinking straight again!" House said. "Fourteen, take a history, then Taub and Kutner, MRI the lungs. What are you waiting for? Hop to!"

The team departed for their assigned duties, Thirteen following her boyfriend to the patient's room, hoping he wasn't who she thought he was. Her fears were confirmed when she caught sight of the man lying in his bed through the glass, his girlfriend waiting with a worried expression at his side. "Foreman," she said, "you think you can handle this?"

"Why? House sent us both to do this."

She wanted to tell him that it was because she didn't want to see this man, the man who had hurt her so much as teenagers, who had caused so much damage in a single night. She settled with a white lie. "I have clinic duty."

"No you don't." Thirteen cast an uneasy glance towards the patient as his girlfriend left his room. Foreman took note. "Do you know him?" She was silent. "I can tell when something's up. Can we talk about it?"

"During our lunch break, somewhere private," she finally answered. "Let's just get the damn history." When they stood directly outside the patient's room, Foreman hugged Thirteen tightly to his chest and then kissed her passionately. He loved her more than anyone had ever loved her; she knew that. She knew she would have to tell him today.

"Whatever it is," he comforted, "I'm here."

"I know," she said, looking up to see Brock ogling at her excitedly, lusting for her. _So he_ does _recognize me._

The pair walked into the patient's room and Foreman began to speak. "Hi. I'm Dr. Foreman and this is…"

"Sexy Remy Hadley," the patient cut him off.

"It's Dr. Hadley to you, Fischer," Thirteen sneered, her words like venom.

"Whatever," he responded before turning his attention to Foreman. "You're a lucky guy to be dating her. Best lay I've ever had."

"Excuse me?" she cut in, almost growling. "I wouldn't exactly call what happened a 'lay'. A more fitting term would be torture."

"That's funny. I recall it as being a passionate encounter."

"Passion to escape. Does your girlfriend know how much of a cad you are?"

"Actually yes, and she's surprisingly fine with it. Says I was young and stupid…"

"Yet you regret none of it!?" This was practically screamed.

"Of course not, Remy. Of course not," he whispered with no hint of remorse in his voice.

"Dr. Hadley," Thirteen corrected through clinched teeth.

"Thirteen," Foreman said gently, drawing her to the far side of the room. "We need to take a history, so if you want to tell me what's going on with you two…" He trailed off when she looked up from the floor, on the verge of crying. He held her close.

"I can't do this," she said. "I need to be somewhere else." With that, she rushed from the room as quickly as she could without breaking into a run, Foreman at her heels. As soon as she reached the empty doctors lounge, Thirteen plopped onto the couch and let loose her tears, tracing familiar paths down her face. Foreman took a seat beside her as she shifted to rest her head upon his chest. When the water works subsided, she looked up at him. "If I ever see that man again, I won't be held responsible for my actions." She sighed. _Here goes nothing._

* * *

A/N Hope you enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated. I'll have the next chapter up soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Wow. I didn't think I'd get such decent feedback. Thanks everyone and keep reviewing!

**A/N 2:** I'm posting chapters two and three today because I had time when the site was down.

**Difficult Recollections **

A sixteen-year-old Remy Hadley leaned against the wall of Jeremy Brennan's ballroom holding a plastic cup filled to the brim with Jack Daniel's. Yes, that's right, ballroom. His family was the wealthiest she new of, and he had invited her to _his_ party while his parents were out. Nirvana and Garbage blasted around her as teens danced in mobs. She watched as her peers boozed up, got high, and in general tried their hardest to get wasted. Remy thought that the party invite meant she had finally been accepted into the 'in' crowd, but she was wrong. The only person who had spoken to her so far was Jeremy himself, as well as the few people he introduced to her. She had seen some of the guys checking her out, and to her satisfaction, even some of the girls. They wouldn't approach her though. They all knew who she was, the weird one that rarely made contact with other people. She and Jeremy were close because their parents were friends and they had grown up together, but none of the others really knew her, and none of them cared to find out.

As Remy took a long swig of her drink, she noticed a boy continuing to send her fleeting looks before turning away in embarrassment. She was sure his name was Brock Fischer and he was a grade ahead of her. She was surprised to see him there, because he was clean. As far as she knew, he had never used alcohol or drugs and wasn't into the party scene; academics and athletics were his thing. He was a friend of Jeremy's however, so that might have explained his presence. Brock was handsome, she had to admit. _He looks sort of like Eddie Vedder._ She smiled at herself for thinking that, trying not to laugh. In middle school she had sworn that she wouldn't develop obsessions with celebrities, but it appeared that she was finally straying awry from her former path.

She looked up again and to her astonishment, he had begun to walk towards her. Remy quickly downed the rest of her booze as he approached. He was extremely muscular. She wasn't sure how she could have missed that, even from afar.

"Remy, right?" he asked.

"Yeah. And Brock?"

"Yep." There was an awkward silence before he spoke again. "You're, um, you're…very good looking."

"A gentleman," she replied jokingly, though she blushed profusely. "I don't get that a lot."

"That's hard to believe. Not even from Jeremy?"

"Jeremy jokingly refers to me as his 'hot brainiac', but I'm not sure that counts."

Brock's face twisted into a look of bafflement. "Really? He's that insensitive? I was always under the impression that he was into you. _Really_ into you."

"I don't think so," she laughed awkwardly. "We're only friends." He's_ my only friend._

"Well, I think he must have brain damage for not seeing what's in front of him." Brock took a step closer, making her face redden even more. "It's pretty crazy in here. Want to go somewhere we can just talk?"

"Sure," Remy replied, not seeing any harm in it.

He led her by the wrist from the ballroom to a flight of stairs. They proceeded until they reached a spacious guest room containing an armoire, a closet, a sofa, and a king size bed. She watched him take a seat on the edge of the bed, and sat next to him. "Jeremy says you're smart," he began. "You saved his ass in chemistry?"

"Sort of," she replied. "More like prevented him from blowing up the classroom on _numerous_ occasions."

"Seriously?"

"No. But the guy can't tell the difference between sulfuric acid and iodine." Remy looked up from her feet smiling and their eyes met.

"I don't get why he doesn't like you…," Brock whispered, trailing off as he leaned in his head to kiss her. She jumped at the opportunity to release some of her pent up, pubescent-induced sexual tension. Some, but not all. The kiss quickly progressed into something more aggressive, and soon both adolescents had stripped down to their undergarments. When he had her pinned against the mattress, she pulled away.

"I…I don't think I want this. At least not now. Not this soon," Remy breathed, her chest heaving. _Why don't I have my goddamn inhaler?_

"You're doing this," came his reply. "You can't back out now." He kissed her again, but this time the contact was violent. Brock then repositioned his hands to hold down her arms and straddled her slender frame.

"Get. The fuck. Off me!" she shouted, lunging upward and biting him where his shoulder met his neck. She didn't release her grip until she tasted the coppery sensation of blood in the back of her mouth. Remy jerked back and spat Brock's own bodily fluid into his face. She struggled against his mass, squirming under him, hoping for the opportunity to land a strategically placed kick or punch. But the opportunity didn't come. He was just far too strong.

"Fuck is right!" he said hitting the side of her face with a hard back fist, the menace in his voice piercing into the depths of her fears. This _was_ one of her fears, she realized; it had always been there subconsciously. It was even worse than the prospect of having a fatal genetic disease, simply because it was happening _now_. Then the realization kicked in. _I'm being raped._ She wouldn't give up, however. She needed to keep fighting.

Remy continued in her attempt to overcome him, but her endeavors all proved futile, as Brock still managed to force the rest of her clothes from her body. Every time he dug himself into her, he forced her spine to convulse, and he made it hurt. She tried so hard not to scream, not to show weakness, but even so, tears began to stream down her face. When she heard him grunt with the excursion, she found she could no longer take it. Remy let loose a cry of anguish, and to her dismay, she saw the satisfaction in his face. The door to the room burst open as Jeremy and another girl appeared in the frame.

"Remy! I heard you scream. Are you…" He found himself stopping as soon as he took in the scene before him. She gave him a desperate look, seeing his horrified expression. "Get the hell away from her!" he shouted.

Brock turned, grinning malevolently. "Jeremy! Come to join the fun?" And at that, Jeremy launched himself upon the other boy, ripping him away from Remy and tackling him to the floor. She heard pounding, and after several minutes, when she got up the courage to look over the edge of the bed, she saw Jeremy getting to his feet over a beaten and broken Brock, who was lying down with a bloody nose.

"Get. Out. Now," Jeremy said sternly. He glared at the girl he had been intending to sleep with. "You too." Brock and the girl both left as Jeremy crawled onto the bed and took a naked and scared Remy in his arms. The sobs that forced themselves from between her lips caused her body to shake uncontrollably. "It'll be alright," he whispered. "I'm here, Remy. It'll be alright." He held her until her crying subsided and she drifted into sleep. Jeremy rested her head on the pillows and covered her cold, bare form with a blanket. He stayed beside her for the rest of the night, keeping watch, as her protector.


	3. Chapter 3

**I Can't Hear You! **

"He raped you," Foreman said. His voice was calm, but Thirteen could see the rage blazing away behind his eyes.

"Yeah," she replied, her own eyes red from tearing up and her skin suddenly extremely pale. "He raped me." Foreman took her into his arms as they sat and ran a gentle hand through her brown locks. She looked up at him and briefly brushed his lips with her own. "I'm taking the rest of the day off," she finally sighed.

"I will, too. I'm not leaving you alone, not now."

"Afraid I'll slip back into old habits? Don't worry; I don't see any nightclubs or one-night-stands in my future."

"It's not that. I just want to be with you, even through the painful things. Especially through the painful things."

Thirteen gazed at him. If it were anyone else, she would have shrugged them off, sniping about how she could take care of herself. Instead, there were only three words she could think to say. "I love you."

"I love you too." Foreman stood and extended a hand, and she took it as she got up from the couch. They left the lounge, fingers still intertwined, to find House.

* * *

"Why the _hell_ didn't you take the history!?" House exclaimed as the pair entered his office. "How hard is it? I had to have Kutner do it, and he just sucks at all that personal stuff," he continued to grumble.

"We're both taking the rest of the day off," Foreman simply stated, but House wasn't looking at him; he was looking at Thirteen. Her face reddened. _Damn. He noticed._

"Were you _crying_?" Her boss asked in mock sympathy, putting all the emphasis on the word _crying_.

"We're leaving, House," was her reply.

"No," he said. "We have a case and I have to go bug Cuddy about booking the MRI room. It's full all day. Can't get the patient in, which inevitably means that you…"

"Great. We'll go with you and get Cuddy to give us the rest of the day off," she interrupted, smirking sardonically.

"Why?" House asked, his interest caught.

"Let's just say that I don't exactly get along with the patient," Thirteen stated plainly, and walked away with Foreman. House then limped after them as quickly as his leg would allow.

"Cuddy," said Foreman as he and Thirteen entered her office.

"Foreman, Dr. Hadley," she addressed, in the most professional manner. Before either of the young doctors had the opportunity to state their intentions, House burst into the room.

"Whatever they ask you for, don't let them have it!" he shouted melodramatically. "Unless it's a threesome," he added. "That would be fine as long as you let me watch."

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "They haven't asked me for anything. Yet," she replied, the second sentence being more of an after thought. "What do you two want?"

"Remy and I would like the rest of the day off," he answered frankly as his boss cringed at hearing Thirteen's real name.

"No!" House cried. "They're not even going to have sex or do anything else that's even remotely interesting! They're just going back to Thirteen's apartment to mope about whatever it is they're moping about now."

Cuddy sighed, noting Thirteen's distraught appearance, a look of concern spreading over her features. It was odd to see the confident, detached woman in such a vulnerable state. "What's going on Dr. Hadley?"

"Nothing I would ever vocalize with House around," she said, glaring spears into the man in question. Cuddy took Thirteen around the shoulders and led her to the far side of the room, away from her employer.

"Believe it or not," the Dean whispered, "I care about the welfare of my employees. Whatever's happening, you can tell me." It was then Thirteen found that maybe the woman did like her more than she let on to.

She inhaled deeply before looking Cuddy straight in the eyes. Again, she could feel tears beginning to form. "I know the patient." She paused. "We went to high school together. And…" she could barely choke it out in the effort to control her emotions, "he forced me." _God, this is pathetic_, she couldn't help thinking. _Crying like this is pathetic._ I'm _pathetic._

"What?!" House shouted, a few inches from her face. "I can't hear you from _waayyy_ over here!" He smirked, and Thirteen knew that this was what he wanted all along, that he had wanted them to go to Cuddy's office with him, and that this had all been because he was curious and wanted to make her miserable.

"You _would_!" she spat at him venomously. Thirteen turned to leave after Cuddy nodded in approval, giving her and Foreman permission to skip work for the rest of the day. As soon as they were gone, House spoke up again.

"About my patient's MRI?"

Cuddy glared at him resentfully. "No, I'm not getting him in. After what you just did to Dr. Hadley…"

"Her name's Thirteen!" House cut in.

"And you obviously don't care, do you!"

"Nope."

"You're too insensitive to understand, I know, but this sort of thing emotionally scars a person. She's got enough on her plate; she's just starting to come to grips with her Huntington's diagnosis, she's just putting the pieces of her life back together after self-destructing."

"And I'm making her come to terms with reality," House replied arrogantly.

"You think you're helping?" Cuddy shot. "If anything, you're making it worse." Her expression drifted from one of anger to one of sadness at the younger doctor's predicament. House hobbled closer to her and lifted her chin with his middle and forefingers.

"She hates pity," he said as he brought his lips to hers, though she abruptly pulled away.

"Not at work," she whispered. "I'm not sure I want anyone to know yet." And with that, House backed away and changed the subject.

"You know, I am helping her. I told you, she doesn't like pity." As he left, Cuddy realized that House actually _was_ trying to help Thirteen, by giving her just the sort hard time she needed.

* * *

It was just past noon and Foreman had taken Thirteen to her favorite Japanese restaurant for lunch. When they went out to eat, Foreman usually rejected any type of Asian food, so the fact that he had willingly brought her there was a small but powerful gesture of affection. She sat, quietly drinking her sake as they waited on their meal. "I can't believe House," she suddenly burst out, shaking her head in disgust. Some of the patrons seated at surrounding tables heard her and turned. She shied her eyes away from their glances sheepishly before turning back to Foreman. "I mean, I expected something, but tricking it out of me like that? It was low, even for him."

Foreman nodded. "This is bad. You don't want a lot of people to know, and I have no doubt that he'll spread it around the hospital."

"You want to know what happened after that night?" she asked.

"Only if you _want_ to tell me," he replied lovingly.

"I woke up ass-naked with Jeremy. At first I thought it had all been some sort of twisted fantasy, but then I looked down and saw his hand around my waist and _felt_ it. Then I was scared. I remembered what happened, and I was afraid that Brock would come back for me. I sat up and that woke Jeremy, who being a teenage boy, commenced staring at my boobs. Then he saw the look on my face and it was like he had forgotten what happened up until that moment, too. He just hugged me and said, 'I'm sorry I didn't come sooner.' And then his mom, who had realized that there had been a completely insane party and was searching for stragglers, walked in and, well, you can imagine how that would be sort of awkward."

"I little bit," Foreman replied, half smiling. "Did you two tell her about Brock?"

"No," Thirteen said. "We saw her and I tried to cover up as much as I could while Jeremy tried to tell her that it wasn't what it looked like. I'm actually pretty sure she believed him, because she looked almost understanding. I guess it might've had something to do with the fact that my eyes were still red and my face was streaked with tears _and_ I had a fist sized bruise from where Brock hit me, and maybe that Jeremy _wasn't_ naked. I remember the next thing out of her mouth was 'What happened?'. I just begged her not to tell my dad that she had seen me like that because I didn't want him to worry. I don't think she did because my dad never said anything to me. I know that she had figured out what happened and if _he_ knew that I had been…" she stopped for a second, trying not to become emotional at uttering the next word on her tongue. "…that I had been rapped, he would have pushed it to court."

"Wait. You didn't file a case?" Foreman asked, astonished.

"I figured that it wouldn't make a difference. It had already happened. It wasn't like I had the option of going back and stopping myself from going to the party in the first place. I'm not a _Time Lord_ or anything. I just…I don't know." As Thirteen spoke those last few words, the waiter came and delivered their food. The couple ate their meal in silence. When they had both finished and Foreman had paid the check, he began to talk again.

"Why would someone do something like that?" he asked. "Why would someone do something like that to a completely innocent person?"

"I don't know," was all Thirteen could say.

That night at her apartment, Thirteen watched Foreman as he prepared for bed. She needed a distraction from Brock, and from House. She just needed _something_. Realizing that what she was about to do was not only a distraction, but a testament of her feelings for him, she approached Foreman and drew him into a fiery embrace. Like always, when their lips met, sparks flew as she pushed him onto the bed. To her distaste however, he stopped. "Are you sure this is a good idea, after everything that's happened today?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Yes," she answered as she kissed him again, this time more tenderly. "I'm sure this is a _very_ good idea."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Again, thanks for reviewing! I honestly don't think this chapter's up to par, so I need your feed back!

**Confrontations**

Thirteen woke from a peaceful slumber, trying to savor every memory from the night before. She realized that she didn't _need _to try and remember; it would happen again with her and Foreman. She couldn't help but think however, that somehow last night had been different. _More intense? No. More enjoyable? No. Kinkier? No, it was always provocative. More emotional? Almost there. More passionate? Yes, that's_ it! _It was passionate! Best ever!_ Satisfied with her conclusion, Thirteen watched the naked form of her lover as he slept, his chest gently rising and falling with every breath. She then spared a glance at her clock, and propped herself up on her elbows when she saw it was nearly nine. "Shit," she said, just loud enough for Foreman to hear as she got up from the bed.

"What?" he laughed. "I didn't think I was that bad last night."

Thirteen shot him a playful smile as his eyes explored the contours of her figure. "We slept through the alarm," she explained as she walked towards the bathroom. "We have twenty minutes." She stepped into the shower and turned the knob, causing warm water to batter her shoulders and back. She leaned her neck back to wet her hair, jumping a bit when Foreman's head appeared from behind the shower curtain.

"You said we only have twenty minutes," he stated.

"I meant before House starts to make stupid remarks about our sex life," she retorted. He proceeded to give Thirteen puppy-dog eyes until finally she sighed and said "Get in here."

* * *

"So," House said as Thirteen and Foreman entered the diagnostics office, "you did have sex."

"We're dating House," Thirteen said. "We can have sex if we want. We're both adults."

"Can you just drop it, House?" Foreman adds. "We've got enough going on without adding you to it."

"Alright," their boss replied. "Fill Homey and Rape Victim in on what they _didn't_ miss."

"Wait," Kutner said, looking at Thirteen. "You were raped?"

"Does it matter?" she replied.

Kutner sighed. "We couldn't book the MRI yesterday, so the patient will be in in half an hour."

"Why did you two leave yesterday?" Taub asked, completely spontaneously.

"Because she was raped!" House exclaimed. "Didn't you pick up on that?"

Kutner and Taub both sent her puzzled expressions as she sunk into Foreman's arms. "The patient did," she finally admitted. "It was a long time ago. Almost ten years."

"You shouldn't make her work," Kutner said to House.

"If I didn't make her work, it wouldn't be called work," he replied. At that moment, Foreman reluctantly released his grip on Thirteen and stormed from the room.

"Where are you going?" she asked him as he reached the door, worried.

"Give me a bit. I'll be back. I promise," was all he said in response. Thirteen was almost scared. She knew what Foreman was about to do. He had made the bold, rash, and in her opinion stupid decision to confront the patient.

"God," she whispered.

"What?" Taub asked, more curious than caring.

"He went to see Fischer."

* * *

Foreman walked into Brock's room, where the patient slept as his girlfriend kept a vigilant watch. "Hi," the woman said when she saw him. "I don't think I've introduced myself. I'm Natalie."

"Dr. Foreman," he replied with a pang of guilt at what he was about to do. She seemed like a good person, and he knew what it was like to love someone despite their flaws. But he saw an immense difference between Thirteen's flaws and Brock's. Thirteen's were not her fault. "Listen, I know this is going to sound bad, but…"

"I know why you're here," Natalie cut off. "It's about your girlfriend right?" Her face was the picture of disgust. "I'll leave for a bit, but just know that he's not a bad guy. Not at all." And with that, she vacated the room, leaving Foreman with a sleeping Brock.

"Brock," he commanded. "Wake up."

"What is it?" he moaned.

"Foreman took a deep breath. "How could you do that to her?" he asked.

Brock laughed. "I take it Remy told you."

"She damn well told me!"

"And I assume you're going to inject me with a lethal dose of morphine for violating your beloved?" he mocked.

"No. I'm here to ask why. Why did you do it?" Foreman was losing the struggle against his emotions, trying so hard to keep them under control, to stay professional, but he found that it was getting harder the longer the conversation persisted.

"I thought she was hot."

"That's it!? You thought she was hot!? That's no excuse to force an innocent person into bed with you!"

"Why not? Any excuse is better than no excuse."

"Foreman!" Thirteen called as she jerked her head around the doorframe. "Don't. Just don't." She stepped into the room further, glaring at Brock, and put her hands on either side of Foreman's face. "Don't fight my battles for me. You need to heal my wounds when the battles are over," she whispered with the utmost tenderness about her voice. "Now let's go."

Before turning to leave, Foreman looked at Brock, his eyes growing dark. "If you ever touch her again…" He spoke intently, and then trailed off as he followed Thirteen into the hall.

"I know you're trying to make things right," she said once he joined her. "But I think that last part was a little _too_ much."

"Making things right is only part of it," he replied, his expression remorseful. "I don't understand people like him. I need to understand, but I know I never will."

"Sorry I yelled at you when I came in. I don't know why I did it. I just don't know."

"Shhh," Foreman whispered gently and took her into his arms. "This situation is obviously taking a toll on both of us. We just need to figure out a way to get through this, just like your disease. We'll find a way to make this work."

"Hey," a voice said angrily from behind. Thirteen twisted her head from Foreman's chest to see Natalie staring at her contemptuously. "Why do you hate him so much? He made a drunken mistake. I'm sure _you've_ done that before."

"He wasn't drunk," Thirteen retorted. "He wasn't drunk or high or anything. He's just an ass. He doesn't regret it."

"You lying little bitch!" Natalie sneered. "Brock said he was drunk, so he was drunk."

"Ever think that maybe _he's_ the one who lied?! Either way, no matter what his motives were, he left me scarred!"

"And I'm sure you've always enjoyed playing the pity card. Seems like you've got everyone here wrapped around your finger. You know I can't look up without seeing a passing nurse or doctor looking at him because they know what he did."

"You sound like him," Thirteen mumbled and walked off, the pain behind her eyes more evident than ever.

"She's dying," Foreman said. "She never told any of us. She never mentioned Brock, either. She's _never_ played the pity card." He then stalked off to find Thirteen, paying no attention to the astonished expression on Natalie's face.

* * *

"The MRI was clean," Taub said as Thirteen entered the differential room.

"And you're telling me this because…?" she replied.

"Because he's our patient."

"Not mine," she grumbled as Kutner handed her some images. She spared a glance at Brock's lungs, and as she did, the doctor in her completely took over. "What about that dark mass?"

"Probably nothing," Kutner explained. "Just over exposure."

Just then Foreman walked into the room. Thirteen noticed that he appeared satisfied to see her there before he began to speak. "Got the MRI results?" he questioned.

"No cancer," Taub stated.

"But there are dark spots," Thirteen retorted. "They could be clusters of cysts."

"Good!" House called from his office. She had been unaware that he was listening. "Do a lung biopsy." At that moment, a loud chorus of different beeping tones penetrated the room as each doctor retrieved a pager from their pockets.

"The patient's seizing," Taub said. She looked at him and rolled her eyes. _Does he have to constantly state the obvious?_

"Then do the biopsy when he's done!" House shouted.

* * *

**A/N2:** So... not sure what to do with the next chapter. All I can say is to expect Cameron being Cameron, and possibly an appearance from Thirteen's childhood friend Jeremy. I'll try to get the next one up soon, but don't hold your breath.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Again, thanks to my faithful readers! And again, this chapter didn't come out as well as I hoped it would. Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon. Until then, reviews are mandantory!

**A/N2:** This chapter is longer than ones before it, so if you don't like it, live with it.

**The Human Psyche**

Thirteen stared through the glass as Kutner and Taub guided Brock through his seizure. Natalie stood at his bedside, biting her lip in worry. She thought that she couldn't help feeling sorry for the woman. He had manipulated her into believing that he was truly a good person and that he was not at fault for his wrongs. Though Natalie had spoken cruelly to her, she couldn't help thinking that they were somehow akin.

"Hey," a soft, feminine voice said next to her. Thirteen turned to see a certain blonde ER Senior Attending on her right.

"Oh. Hey, Cameron," she replied.

"Listen," the other doctor said awkwardly, as if unsure how to continue, "I've been there."

"I'm sorry?"

"I've been there. Well, not exactly there, but similar instances happen."

"You haven't been raped," she sneered silently.

"No," Cameron replied, "but I have had to spend time with people who've hurt me."

"But never like him," Thirteen whispered.

"No, never like him."

"He's stable!" Kutner shouted from the patient's room, relived.

"Damn," Thirteen mumbled, and she began to walk off.

"Wait," Cameron called after her. "I talked to Chase. You and Foreman should get a drink with us after work."

The younger doctor nodded. "I'll ask him." Thirteen's face assumed the blank, emotionless mask that she had often worn before she found her current state of happiness with Foreman, but behind her façade, she was confused. Foreman was close with Chase and Cameron, but she didn't know them well enough to understand Cameron's actions. She was puzzled as to why Cameron, of all people, would reach out to _her_. Thirteen had heard of the other doctor's too-nice-for-her-own-good demeanor, but why her? She might feel bad for Foreman; it was _his_ girlfriend who was going though everything. She wondered if Cameron would still want to help if she wasn't with him. Was she taking pity on her or trying to show her that there were people out there who could sympathize? Whatever was happening, Thirteen wasn't sure she liked it. _Still, I'd like the chance to get my mind off things… _Thump!

Thirteen completely lost her train of thought as she collided with someone. She chanced looking up, hesitant in case it was who she thought. To her dismay, it was. "Sorry," she said, but as she began to walk away, House stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

"How's the patient doing?"

"He's stable." She attempted to wrench away, but his grip was surprisingly sturdy. "What?"

"What was it like? What he did, I mean."

"Traumatic," she snapped. "Now let go."

"But what were you thinking?" her boss asked, this time more forcefully.

"I was afraid. Afraid for my life, afraid I'd end up pregnant, afraid that I wouldn't be able to carry on normal human relationships."

"More afraid than when you got you Huntington's diagnosis?"

Thirteen took a second to weigh the two experiences against each other. "Yes, now can we please stop pinpointing my each and every weakness?!" House, appearing satisfied with her answer, finally let his employee go, and she stormed off. As she did, Foreman looked up from the file he had been reading, completely unnoticed by those around him.

"What was that about?" he asked, concerned for Thirteen.

"She thinks she's weak," was all he gave in response before limping off to Wilson's office.

* * *

"Is experiencing fear while being raped a form of weakness?" House asked as he entered the oncologist's office, as always, without knocking.

"No," Wilson replied quizzically. "For a normal person, fear is a rational defense mechanism; it tells you not to do things that could potentially hurt you, like rape. Then again, you're not exactly a normal person per say, so…"

"Thirteen thinks it's a sign of weakness," House cut off. "Why?"

"I should've known that's why you came. Can't you ever come by my office just to say 'hi' or something?"

"I'm serious, Wilson."

"The guy took advantage of her and she wasn't able to fight him off. She might have taken that as physical weakness and applied the same logic to her own fears. She couldn't overcome them, so she thought she was mentally weak, too."

"In what universe does that even make sense? I wanted Rational Man, not Rationalization Man."

"I was being rational."

"But she's not weak! Why does she think that?"

Wilson sighed. "Remember my theory about how you hire pretty girls,"

"Yeah," House continued impatiently. "I enslave them and force them to be around me."

"But that's not why you hired Thirteen. You hired her because she is the _one_ puzzle you can't figure out."

"Wrong. Everything she's done can be explained by her disease."

"Right. She's dating Foreman because she's lost all hope."

"Actually, she has, and that's not it."

A small grin crept up Wilson's face. "You actually care about the welfare of your employees, don't you?"

"No, I don't," House argued, but his expression gave away the truth. Wilson's smile grew. "I don't," he repeated, using his best I'm-not-lying face, as he stalked back to the diagnostics office.

Foreman entered the locker room, only to find Thirteen aimlessly rearranging the contents of her locker, attempting to distract herself. She looked up and her face brightened a little at seeing him. He moved towards her and planted a quick kiss on her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

"Cameron and Chase want us to go out with them tonight," Thirteen said.

"I had heard. You want to?" Foreman replied.

"Getting out would be good for me. You know that pub on Oak? I was thinking we could go there."

"Sounds good. I know Chase likes that place. We should tell them." There was a long pause in the conversation, during which the only sounds were the soft inhale and exhale of breath. Thirteen tightened her grip upon him, breathing in his scent. Finally Foreman spoke again. "House says that you think you're weak."

"House doesn't know what he's talking about," she mumbled in such a way that made him think their boss was right. Thirteen could see that he didn't believe her, so in a desperate attempt to break the awkwardness; she kissed him. She allowed a moan of pleasure to escape from her mouth and drift into his, and just as she really became involved in the intimate act, something appeared wrong. Foreman had stopped kissing back. She brought her eyes to make contact with his, and she found them to be sad. "What is it?" Thirteen asked, concerned.

Foreman ran a tender hand along her jaw line and proceeded to speak in a whisper. Expelling emotions had never been easy for him. "I just want you to know. Even if _you_ think you're weak, you're the strongest person I've ever met. So many things have been thrown at you, and you still haven't given up. Something I realize about you is that you won't give up. Ever."

"And what; you think that's admirable?"

"Beyond admirable." Thirteen smiled as he began to kiss her again.

"Hey! Porn movie waiting to happen! We have a patient and I have unfinished clinic hours!" House called from the locker room entrance. "Get to work! In the clinic!" Thirteen wasn't sure whether or not sending her to the clinic instead of to Brock was House's form of compassion, or if he was just being a jerk. Of course, the latter was much more likely, but it was nice to pretend.

* * *

"Hi," Cameron said when she and Chase met Thirteen and Foreman at the pub.

"Hey. It's good to get away from the hospital for a bit," Thirteen replied. "It's almost like we live there." Foreman placed an arm around her waist and the four doctors found a table.

"We'll get the drinks," he said, nodding to Chase, and the two swaggered off to the bar, leaving the women alone.

"House seemed to come down on you after Brock's seizure," Cameron said. "What happened?"

"Nothing of importance," Thirteen replied. "Just House trying to solve a puzzle." She sighed. "Sometimes I wonder why he hired me instead of Amber. I think about all the cases we took when we were competing for spots on his team, and I can't think of one outstanding thing I've done. He didn't hire me because I'm a good doctor. He hired me because I'm a challenge. House has everyone at the hospital figured out. You, Foreman, Chase, Wilson, Cuddy, everyone. But not me. Even after he found out about the Huntington's and my sexuality, he still couldn't piece together my personality, if that makes sense. But everyday, he's coming closer and closer to figuring me out. I've always been secretive, but I was forced out of that when I began to work for him. Little by little, things started coming out. And when I'm no longer interesting, I'll be gone. Every once in a while, I _do_ think about what would have happened if Amber _had_ been hired in my place. Maybe I would've ended up dating Wilson and I would have ODed on flu pills and died in the bus crash. Maybe things would have been better that way."

Cameron looked at her intently as she spoke, contemplating her words. "The patient who had the midline deformity on his head."

"What?"

"He would have died of an undiagnosed case of lyme disease during his surgery if you hadn't found the rash under his hairline. House shot you down so many times before that, but you stuck with diagnosis and saved the kid. Things like that are why he hired you. Not because you're interesting, but because you're a good doctor."

"How did you know about that?" Thirteen asked.

"Chase was there, remember?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "For the rest of the night, can we not talk about hospital stuff? I just…"

"I understand."

"I don't get it," Chase said at the bar. "She's messed up beyond repair, and you're still with her."

"Not beyond repair," Foreman replied. "The last few months are proof of that."

"Yes, but the appearance of your current patient seems to have reversed some of that."

"No." He shook his head. "You didn't see her when I saw her. She was broken and vulnerable then. Now, she's happy, and it makes me feel good to see her that way."

"Or it just makes you feel good to let her in your pants," Chase argued. "You got close during the drug trial. You were forced to spend time together, and she's hot. Almost has an edge on Cameron." Foreman gave him a questionable look. "I said almost."

"I think I loved her before the drug trial," he simply stated. "I know I loved her before the drug trial."

Chase took his and Cameron's drinks from the bar and turned to head back to the table. "You do realize it's inevitable that your relationship will end in catastrophic failure, presumably her death, don't you?"

"Yeah," Foreman replied, "But it'll be worth it. You know Thirteen wants kids? She wants a future."

The other doctor smiled. "Good for you," he replied sincerely. Foreman lifted glasses for him and Thirteen from the bar and followed Chase.

The rest of the evening continued without the slightly depressing mood of before, the doctors laughing about the funniest clinic patients, discussing movies and television, and having a good time.

* * *

Thirteen awoke in the morning next to Foreman, feeling happier than she had in days. When she arrived at work, she stepped into the diagnostics office, beaming and elated. She took her usual seat beside Foreman and across from Kutner, thinking that nothing could ruin her mood. That's why, when she turned to greet the person walking into the room, she was utterly shocked.

"Remy." A familiar masculine voice said from behind. "I heard." That was when she found herself staring into the face of a very grown up Jeremy Brennan.

_Please, no. I don't need more reminders, not after last night._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Sorry this is a bit shorter than some of my other chapters. A few interesting things happen here, but I'm not sure I'm happy with it. Thanks to all my readers! Remember, reviews are love!

**Him, Too**

"Jeremy," Thirteen uttered. "What the hell are you doing here?" She stood in complete shock, staring.

"I heard about Brock," the man answered. "I want to help." Jeremy walked over and hugged her tightly. She wasn't sure how to react. On any other day, at any other time, she just might have been even a little happy to see her childhood friend, but now he only brought with him more bad memories. After the incident with Brock, things between Thirteen and Jeremy had been strained. He had seen her when she was most vulnerable, and was uncomfortable with that. He had seen a side that she had never revealed, and never intended to reveal. She decided that she couldn't see him, knowing what he knew. They had drifted apart and never spanned the gap. She didn't want to be thought of as afraid, she knew she wasn't. He reminded her, however, of a time that she was, and she didn't want to face that. After all that time, she was surprised to see him.

The real shock came though, when Jeremy bent his head and placed a soft, tender kiss on her lips. Thirteen twisted away. "I already have someone to do that. Someone to help me through difficult times, someone to support me, someone to hold me, and someone to _love_ me," she said, an air of defiance about her voice.

Jeremy noticed the quick glance that passed between Foreman and Thirteen and nodded his head in the other man's direction. "Is it him?"

"Yes, it is."

"I don't think he's good enough."

"You're right. Foreman's more than good enough."

"He's not right for you. _No one's_ right for you or will ever be right for you because you push everyone away so that you don't have to deal with them when they watch you die. But if there was someone that was even close to right for you, you know it would be me."

"No," Thirteen sniped. "It wouldn't. I've gotten over all of that. You don't want to know what I was doing before I came to terms with everything, but I will tell you that it wasn't exactly in my own best interests." She cringed remembering the alcohol and drugs, the one-night stands, and almost allowing a gunman to take her life. "Guess who helped me through it? Guess who cared even before they knew I loved them back? Guess who gave a damn even though I was acting like a contemptuous bitch? I'll give you a hint. It wasn't you. It never was you."

"Who took care of you after Brock?" Jeremy retorted. "I spent that entire night, by _your_ bedside, stroking _your_ hair, holding _your_ cold, naked body! You think I don't care as much as anyone else in your life?"

"That's the thing. You're not part of my life, at least not anymore." The pair hadn't realized that their voices elevated in volume with every sentence, loud enough to attract a crowd gathering around Diagnostics, eager to see who could so upset the usually cool and enigmatic female doctor. The other fellows just stared at them in silence, taken aback by Jeremy's sudden action.

"Thirteen, who's your friend?" House boomed cynically as he entered the office. "Foreman, she's cheating on you!"

Foreman rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter," Thirteen said, "because my 'friend' is leaving now."

"No, I'm not," Jeremy stated through clinched teeth. "You need someone who was actually _there_ to support you. By the way," he turned to House, "I'm Jeremy Brennan, a friend of Remy's."

"Whose?" House asked. Jeremy appeared confused, ignorant of Remy's nickname and of the fact that House refused to refer to her as anything else.

"Thirteen," Foreman supplemented.

"Great!" Thirteen said sarcastically. "Introduction's over, now leave!"

"We need someone who's actually competent to analyze the lung tissue," House told her. "Fourteen, go!" They both obliged heading for the lab. She didn't get it. Was House being nice _again_? He had gotten her away first from Brock and now from Jeremy. He was allowing her to spend more time with Foreman, too. _This is un-Houseian._

"Why did he have to come?" she wondered, irritated, as her boyfriend caught up with her.

"He's obviously worried. It's what any good friend would do."

"If you haven't noticed, he seems to want to go beyond friends."

Foreman furrowed his eyebrows, thinking about what Jeremy did indeed want. "I think that he thought you'd be open to it."

"I know," she said, walking into the lab. Thirteen found the tissue sample where Kutner or Taub had carelessly left it in a petri dish, and after staining it, stuck it under the microscope. She put her eye to the lens, pulled back, and adjusted the magnification. She looked through the lens again, and after studying the specimen for a few seconds, stepped away and gasped. "Tell me that what I'm seeing is real," Thirteen all but commented. Foreman took his turn with the microscope and looked at her, just as shocked.

"Smooth muscle cells," he breathed. "He has LAM."

"He's dying."

Suddenly the doors to the lab sprung open and Jeremy came to stand in the entrance. "You're not aloud here," she told him, as if willing him out would work.

"Why do you want me to go?"

"Because I don't need you here. Not now. Not ever." Foreman slipped his hand into hers for support as Jeremy shot them a questioning glance. "You've seen too much," Thirteen continued. "You've seen me as this vulnerable little girl who was never supposed to come out. "I have enough going on in my life without you reminding me of that."

"You can't be here!" House bellowed as he limped into the room. Again, he was saving her. Jeremy didn't move. "Seriously, get out!" Reluctantly, he left. "So, what did the biopsy show?"

"LAM," Foreman said, as Thirteen was still in the preliminary stages of shock. She watched House pause, speechless for the first time since she had met him. She thought about how the diagnosis might change things. They were both dying, meaning that she could potentially sympathize with him. _God, I must be _really_ messed up if I feel bad for him._

"I'll have Taub tell the patient," their boss stated.

"No," Thirteen blurted out. "I'll do it."

* * *

**A/N2: **I've regrettably got some writer's block. I know it took longer to get this chapter up, but I have other projects I'm working on. Anyway, It ma be awhile before the next chapter's up.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, everyone. You guys are what keeps me writing! I know that this chapter is also short. I've been trying to keep up with one a week, but that's getting a little difficult. I've also noticed some typos and gramatic errors in previous chapters and apologize. This chapter gets a bit more in depth about Foreman's role in everything and the angst definately picks up. I'm not sure I'm happy about this chapter, but I'm also trying to work on two non-fanfic projects at the moment as well. Anyway, enjoy.

**Foreman's Reflection**

Foreman and House stood on the outside looking in as Thirteen delivered Brock and Natalie their fatal news. "Things are going to change now," House commented without looking away from the patient and Thirteen.

"What do you mean?" the other doctor asked.

"Well, we've found out of recent that her Huntington's isn't the only reason she's always been miserable. The patient tore her to pieces, and now he's as broken and vulnerable as she was when he nailed her. She's not going to be able to hate him now, no matter how much she wants to, and it's going to make her even more pathetic."

Foreman sighed and though about what House had said. He was right. Ever since he had first met her, the one thing that always managed to catch his attention, no matter what he was doing, was the beautiful sort of sadness that he found behind her eyes, praying to be concealed while simultaneously trying to push through the barriers that held it back. It was at that moment that Foreman realized something. Thirteen would never be contented, even with him around to love her. He didn't want her to be sad forever. He didn't want her to unearth even more misery within her existence. Foreman looked House in the eye and began to speak, his voice trembling with his realization. "Even when she's happy, she's not happy. She's never been happy. She may never be happy."

"Is she happy when you have sex?"

"Very, but…"

"So there," House interrupted. "She's been happy. If you want her to be happy, have more sex. You might as well kill two birds with one stone and make me happy letting me watch."

"But," Foreman said, picking up where he left off, "It's a temporary happiness, like a high. She's never continuously happy." Just then the pair heard Natalie burst out sobbing into Brock's shoulder, Thirteen's face an expression of remorse. "Maybe you and Cameron have it right when it comes to religion, because I can't imagine what kind of God would inflict so much suffering on such a perfect, amazing person."

"You think she's perfect? You're that in love?" House said sarcastically.

"Yeah," Foreman replied, despite his boss's cynicism.

"Love makes people do stupid things. And she's miserable."

"I know. But I'd do all the stupid things I could for her and I don't care as long as I can be miserable with her." He paused, staring at House, who appeared to be deep in thought. "What?"

"Maybe that's why you love her. Because she's miserable. You're not exactly Wilson. You don't need needy. But you like to have something besides yourself to live for. You feed off her angst just like she feeds off your comfort. And no matter how much you both love each other, your relationship is a time bomb."

Foreman remembered Chase saying the same thing, yet somehow, it was only beginning to sink in now. "I know," he said, having finally figured out what House was up to with his niceness. He was trying to prepare he and Thirteen for when it happened, for the onset of her symptoms and her inevitable death. Foreman decided that he would keep his conversation with House to himself, not wanting to add to his girlfriend's burden.

Thirteen emerged from Brock's room, trying to hold back the tears that burned behind her eyes, the tears she knew shouldn't be there. She knew Brock wasn't sorry for what he did, but she was still about to cry for him. The only person she had ever truly cried for was herself; she hadn't even shed a tear at her mother's funeral. _I'm selfish, so selfish. The world deserves more from me._ She was angry with herself. _I'm a hypocrite._

"Hey," Foreman said softly as he embraced her. "You okay?"

"I'll be fine," she whispered into his neck, where she discreetly placed a gentle kiss. "It's them I'm worri3ed about. They're taking it pretty hard. They said yes to the surgery, though. It'll give him maybe ten more years, but he'll still die and I'll feel like crap when he does because I'll never be able to forgive him."

"You shouldn't feel bad. None of this is your fault. Now c'mon. Let's get some lunch." The couple then departed for the cafeteria, his arm around her shoulder, House watching as they left. He knew he had done his job. He didn't want anymore moping doctors.

* * *

It was later that day and Thirteen was feeling better about herself. She decided to look in on Brock and Natalie before Brock went in for surgery. When she arrived at the room, however, she found something that she didn't expect. _I thought he left_, she thought as her face contorted into a scowl. There, through the glass, she could see Jeremy. Thirteen stormed into the room just in time to hear him shout a chain of obscenities at Brock as Natalie gaped in horrible astonishment. "Stop!" the woman shouted, angry at seeing her boyfriend reduced to a verbal punching bag.

"Jeremy!" Thirteen screamed, the man turning at recognizing her voice.

"Remy! I was just…"

"I thought we told you to get out!"

"No! This guy raped you, and now you're his doctor, taking care of him. I don't know about you, but I see something wrong with that. You're a hypocrite," Jeremy said, echoing her thoughts from earlier. "Why do you care?"

"We've found ourselves in similar situations," she mumbled, barely audible.

Jeremy laughed, seeing through her poorly placed mask. "He's dying. He's dying!" His initial joy gave way to hysterics.

"You creep!" Thirteen, without thinking, raised her fist, and to the surprise of Natalie and Brock, punched Jeremy as hard as she could across the face, forcing him off balance and even knocking loose a tooth. Jeremy was obviously taken aback by her actions and was unable to stifle a gasp. "Now go!" she shouted, enraged and breathing hard. She looked up at Brock. "I know you're still not sorry, but he was over the line." He nodded as she left for the ER.

* * *

"Thirteen!" Cameron said, surprised by the appearance of the other doctor. "What's up?"

"I need you to take care of something," Thirteen replied, holding up her bloody right fist.

"What happened?" she asked, leading the other doctor to an empty patient bed.

"I punched someone," Thirteen answered as she sat.

"Punched someone?"

"Yep."

"Who?"

"That guy," Thirteen said, pointing with her good hand, leading Cameron's gaze to Jeremy, who was approaching them with Cuddy at her side.

"Dr. Hadley," the Dean half greeted before getting to her point. "What's going on here?"

**A/N2:** Okay. So is Cuddy angry? What will happen to Thirteen? *Oh, the suspense!* Really, is it just me or was Thirteen going a bit overboard with the self-loathing in the last few chapters. I feel more angst coming on! Now hit the review button. You know you want to!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Sorry it took a bit to get this up. Yes, I know it's short and I apologize. Thanks for the reviews! I live on them.

**A/N2:** An interseting point I want to make. Originally, Jeremy was suposed to be a good character, but I thought it would be much more fun to make him a pain in the ass. Just wanted to clarify that. Is it relevant to the story now? No, but I somehow find it relevant.

**Change**

"You thought I wouldn't go there," Jeremy smirked at Thirteen.

"Don't look so smug," she retorted. "I knew I had this coming, and frankly, I don't care!"

Cuddy sighed as Cameron finished stitching up Thirteen's injury and placed a hand to her forehead. "I need to speak with you in my office Dr. Hadley," she said, watching the other woman get up to follow her. Jeremy began to trail in their wake. "Alone, Mr. Brennan," the Dean snapped, leaving him behind.

Thirteen couldn't help letting her mind drift on the short walk to Cuddy's office. She seemed to have sealed her fate, at least at this hospital. She had done some outrageous things, used IV fluids to giver her a buzz and erase hangovers, volunteered herself as a guinea pig to test drugs for a psychopathic gunman, and there was that time with Eric in the sleep lab; House still wouldn't let them forget. Now she had physically harmed someone on hospital property. She had already been fired and rehired twice; she couldn't shake the feeling that this would be the third, but without the rehiring part. _I am _so_ dead._

"Dr. Hadley," Cuddy motioned, "sit down please." Thirteen took her spot in the chair directly in front of Cuddy's desk and waited to be reprimanded. _Here it comes._ "I've excused your actions in the past," the Dean began, "but I don't think I can this time, no matter how much I'd like to, considering the circumstances."

"My actions were justifiable," Thirteen replied.

"You assaulted a hospital patron."

"No, I assaulted a stalker who pinched one to many nerve endings."

"I'm sorry?" Cuddy appeared puzzled.

"You seriously don't know who Jeremy Brennan is, do you?" the younger doctor replied.

"Apparently not."

"He came to harass me, but ended up harassing our patient, who by the way, has LAM."

"I'm sorry. This is the man who rapped you?"

"Yes, and I'm honestly not sure how I feel about it. Jeremy just drove me over the edge." Thirteen studied Cuddy's face looking for any sign of emotion, but all she found was the reserved professionalism that rarely left the woman's countenance.

"Why aren't you sure about how you feel?" Cuddy pried, playing therapist.

"Because now we have something in common. We have ten years in common. I can't forgive him, but can no longer hate him. I think there's something wrong with that." Thirteen gripped the arms of the chair harder, anticipating a scolding, shocked at what came next.

Cuddy clasped her hands together, resting them on the desk. "I don't think there's anything wrong with that. People facing similar situations often become closer because of them. I also don't think you should feel guilty about being unable to forgive him."

Thirteen gave her a confused glance. "How did you…?

"Remorse is written all over your face, Dr. Hadley."

"Fair enough, but…" Thirteen was interrupted by the sound of House barging into the office as hard and fast as his leg would allow.

"Cuddy," he said, "We still on for tonight?" Cuddy shot him a warning glare as he noticed Thirteen. "Sorry. I'll see you later," he mumbled, knowing their cover was blown, as he made a silent retreat.

Thirteen couldn't help stifling a laugh. "What?" Cuddy asked.

"Eric was right," came the simple reply. "You two are dating." Thirteen stood up to leave when Cuddy's voice halted her.

"Dr. Hadley?"

"Yeah?" she turned.

"You know you can't get away with this without punishment."

"I know."

"But I think it can wait until after your patient is discharged."

"Thank you. And out of curiosity, what am I looking at." She smiled.

"One week's suspension, unpaid. And you won't tell anyone about House and I, will you?"

"My lips are sealed," Thirteen assured her as she exited the office.

"That woman will always get herself into some form of trouble," Cuddy mused as the door closed behind the younger doctor. "If it weren't for her good looks and charm…" she joked, her voice trailing off. The door to her office opened again abruptly.

"I heard that Dr. Cuddy," she chided with a smile before taking off again. Cuddy just smiled to herself before returning to her paperwork.

* * *

Thirteen found herself standing in the surgical gallery, watching from above as a team of surgeons, including Chase, removed the cysts from Brock's lungs. Foreman stood beside her, grasping her hand. "I heard about your little fiasco with Jeremy," he said. "I believe that security has formally kicked him out by now."

Thirteen simply smiled and looked up at him. "You were right," she replied.

"About what?"

"About how I shouldn't feel guilty about Brock. I never did anything to harm him and recently I've even done some things to help him. I don't hate him anymore, and it's not out of pity, but of mutual circumstances. I can't forgive him, because he's not sorry, but that could change. It seems like it's changing. It seems like _I'm_ changing. And, as it appears I've finally learned after switching my life around, change can be good."

"Yeah," Foreman said, turning her to stroke her cheek, "I guess it can." Then he leaned in and kissed her, lightly at first, but soon deepening the experience until it rested on the most emotionally intimate level. Thirteen wrapped an arm around his waist and the other around his neck to pull him closer, trying to express everything in this single action that words could not, hoping that the force with which their lips collided, the passion in which she held him, was enough to convey even her deepest feelings. They parted only when the need for oxygen became too great, Thirteen finding her lips to be sore. "I think change might come to us soon," Foreman said resting his forehead on hers.

"What do you mean?" she asked, not entirely sure what he was getting at.

"Thirteen, Remy," he whispered with the utmost tenderness. "Don't worry. It's the good kind of change."

Thirteen smiled at him, love and devotion present in her eyes. "I hope so," she replied, again bringing him into and embrace, both ignorant of the surgical staff watching them from below.

* * *

**A/N: **So, I knind of left the ending to this open. I'm thinking of ending it there, but if you all want me to continue, I will. Vote on it by leaving comments Come on, you know you want to.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** The overwhelming majority of you voted yes, so new chapter! Sorry this took so long to get up. I'm really satisfied with this one though, and I think the wait was worth it. This entire chapter is loosely based on some drabble I wrote when I first started this story. Oh, and despite the fact that Kutner is dead on the show, I'm keeping him alive in this fic and all fics I write in the future. So, enjoy!

**Love and Angst**

Thirteen gazed through the glass into Brock's room, contemplating him as he slept post surgery. Natalie sat by his bedside, keeping a protective vigil. When she saw Thirteen, she gave her a sad smile and gestured for her to sit beside her. The doctor did as bidden, plopping down in the adjacent chair and running a tired hand through her hair. The pair rested in silence for several minutes, and after a while, Thirteen spoke. "How do you feel about all this?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Natalie replied. "I guess I'm scared. But I'm going to ride it out with him. He needs someone, and if I left him now, it'd crush him."

"It's normal to be afraid," Thirteen said. "I'm always afraid. Afraid that my life in the end will wind up lacking all meaning, that I won't have any impact on the world, that I'll leave everyone regretting that they wasted time with someone whose mind had deteriorated enough that they couldn't even hold a conversation." Thirteen found herself shocked. She had just confessed her deepest, most private emotions to Natalie, emotions that she hadn't even shared with Foreman. _I'm getting desperate for someone who really understands._

"Why do they call you Thirteen?" The question was completely irrelevant and off topic, and caught Thirteen by surprise.

"When House's old team left, he hired forty new fellows and planned to weed out the best doctors by means of a game. Each of us wore a card with a number on it around our neck; we all looked ridiculous walking around the hospital like that. It was sort of funny. But anyway, my number was thirteen."

"But Dr. Kutner and Dr. Taub both go by Kutner and Taub."

"Yeah. I was extremely…secretive then. By the time we were narrowed down to I think seven fellows, everyone had learned each other's names. Except mine. I wouldn't tell them my name. When House asked, I told him it was in my file. I didn't want to get close to people because of the disease. I didn't even know I had it then. I guess I was trying to prepare myself."

"And eventually it all came out?"

"I was an enigma. In a way I still am. House likes enigmas because he can solve them. He went to work on me like a Rubik's Cube, and all he came out with was that I'm bisexual, a piece of gossip that spread through the hospital like wild fire, and that my mom died of Huntington's."

"You're bisexual?" Natalie gave her a questioning look.

Thirteen sighed. _Is that all people care about?_ "Mmmhmm. But that's not relevant."

"After you tested yourself, how did you cope?" Thirteen knew all these questions and exploring her history through them was Natalie's was of asking advice, so she complied despite her reluctance.

"I did lots of things that I'm not proud of. I alienated people even more than before to make it easier on me. I told myself that it was to avoid hurting them, but really I was just being selfish." Thirteen put her head in her hands and took a deep breath, remembering the dismal time. Images of dark clubs, shots of alcohol, ecstasy tablets, and empty sex flashed through her mind. "In short, I self-destructed. One hostage situation and a near death experience later, I realize that I don't want to die. I turned my life around, began to form actual human relationships. It occurred to me that I couldn't go it alone. And then I fell in love with Eric." Natalie nodded in understanding. "He needs you now more than ever. Brock's lucky to have you. He won't end up like I did."

The room fell into quiet as neither felt there was anything left to say. Thirteen leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. Even though Brock had been diagnosed and it was over, she couldn't shake the sensation that somehow, this was only the beginning. She found herself and Natalie becoming unlikely friends, but friends nonetheless. She recognized that the more time she spent with the other woman, the more time she spent with Brock, and the more time she spent with Brock, the closer he came to repenting, and the closer she came to forgiving. The young doctor decided not to dwell on it for too long before getting up and walking out to the nurses' station. She reached behind the counter and liberated a notepad, much to the disdain of a certain Nurse Brenda. Thirteen strode back to Brock's room, removed a pen from the pocket of her lab coat, and scribbled a set of numbers down. She tore the page from the pad and handed it to Natalie. "We should keep in touch," she said, trying to smile.

"We should," Natalie replied, mimicking Thirteen's facial expression.

"Bye." With that she exited the room, made her way over to the nurses' station again and returned the notepad.

"You could at least ask before you take things," snapped an unhappy Brenda. "You're a regular kleptomaniac."

"Not really," Thirteen replied smugly, knowing that her arrogance would annoy the nurse. "Kleptos don't usually return things." She gave a faux smile and walked off to diagnostics.

* * *

Foreman sat in the cafeteria with Chase and Kutner, all three sipping their coffee after a long day. The room was dark and empty except for the three doctors and the janitor who wears his pants backwards. "So," Chase began. "You and Thirteen in the surgical gallery?"

"We had a moment," Foreman replied. "One of those moments that really deepens a relationship and betters you as a person."

"If you say so. After seeing that though, I can guarantee that you'll get some at home." Foreman simply rolled his eyes at the comment before listening to what Kutner had to say on the matter.

"You're both lucky that you're girlfriends aren't afraid of public displays of affection. If we're out, mine wouldn't touch me with a ten foot pole."

"You have a girlfriend?" Foreman asked.

Kutner's expression changed from one of sad jealousy to one of confusion. "Yes. No. Sort of." At this, the other two laughed.

"How can you not know?" Chase mocked.

"It's complicated. And weird. But that's beside the point. I guess I'm just trying to say that you're both lucky to be with someone you love."

"You've got that right," Foreman sighed, his eyes far away and a look of excited knowing on his face. He got up from his seat and tossed out his coffee cup.

"Where're you going?" Chase called after him.

"To see Remy!" was all he gave in reply, leaving his colleges dazed and wondering, brushing past Taub as he ran. Out of the blue, Kutner broke the silence that had settled upon the cafeteria.

"Who's Remy?" Chase smacked his forehead and even the janitor looked up. "What?"

"You can't be serious," Taub and Chase said simultaneously.

"I am. Who's Remy?"

"Bisexadrine," Taub stated, remembering something House once said.

"Oh!" Kutner exclaimed in realization. "So _that's_ her name." Chase and Taub just shook their heads at the other doctor's antics, both laughing quietly to themselves.

* * *

Thirteen sat at the table in Diagnostics, reading over a file. Her head shot up when she heard the door open, but a smile settled upon her face when she saw who it was. Foreman walked over to where she sat, and pulled up the chair next to her so that they were face to face. "Hi," she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"How's everything with Brock and Natalie?"

"They're handling things well," Thirteen replied. "Well, at least she is. He was asleep. I gave her my number, told her to keep in contact."

"That's good."

"Yeah. Everything really is changing. I actually get along with Natalie really well." The couple sat in silence when Thirteen finished her statement, both thinking separately about their future together, Thirteen about he imminent death, Foreman about what he was preparing himself to do at that very second.

"Earlier, you said that change would come to us. What'd you mean?" Thirteen asked.

"This," Foreman replied. She watched intently as he reached inside the pocket of his lab coat with his left hand and took the back her own hand with his right. He drew his fist from his pocket and her fingers around it. Thirteen gasped when she felt something cold and round and metallic being pressed into her palm. Foreman removed his hands, allowing Thirteen to fully digest the moment. She felt her face twist into an enormous, beaming grin as she stood and threw her arms around Foreman. She began to sob tears of joy into his shoulder and grip both him and the ring tighter.

When she finally let go, Thirteen kissed him, rested her forehead against his, and whispered a single word: "Yes."

**A/N:** So, whatdijya think? Remember, not everyone reviews, so YOU need to! I'll curl up in a fetal position in some dark and dismal place and refuse to write anymore unless I get a significant number of reviews. So for the sake of my dignity as much as your entertainment, press that button!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Sorry it's been a while. I just got a Mac and had to figure out how to convert everything to my old PCso that I could post it because the Document Manager doesn't support Pages. I think that this is my shortest chapter yet, and I guess that that makes sense because this is sort of an in between chapter. Hope you all like!

**Curiosity Gets The Better**

Thirteen sighed as she fondled the silver band on her ring finger whilst walking into the diagnostics office. She smiled in relief when she saw no one was there, and she removed the ring. She and Foreman had had a not unpleasant discussion the night before, and had decided not to tell anyone at work about their engagement until after Thirteen's impending suspension. When no one else knew, it was special and intimate and completely their own. It was their secret. She had, however, dropped in early to tell Natalie, who at the time had been helping Brock gather his things to be discharged. The couple had been thrilled for her and offered their congratulations, and she in turn guaranteed them a wedding invitation in the near future.

Thirteen took a moment to examine the diamond set at the pinnacle of the ring, still in awe of the previous day's events, before slipping it into the breast pocket of her lab coat, and airy smile adorning her face. _I'm lucky. Damn, so lucky. _Images of white dresses and bouquets began to envelop her mind as she leaned against the conference table and swayed back and forth slightly after closing her eyes. She never thought that she would be one of _those _sort of brides, but she couldn't help herself. She felt like one of the princesses in the fairy tales her father used to read her as a small child, though she had never particularly liked them. _My father._ Thirteen hadn't spoken to her father since she graduated from medical school. She wasn't sure exactly how to go about telling him that she was to marry a man she hadn't even introduced to him. She wasn't even sure she _should_ tell him. Her father hadn't been a part of her life in so long. He didn't even know that she was sentenced to be killed by the same thing that caused the death of her mother. "I'll talk to Eric about it," she resolved aloud.

"About what?" came the voice Thirteen glanced up from her trance, only to see Taub and Kutner. "About what?" Kutner repeated.

"If I wanted to talk about it, why didn't I bring it up?" she replied.

"But you did," Taub countered.

She sighed in annoyance. "Not to you. Anyway, you'll probably find out in a week's time, so just leave it."

"Whatever you say," the older doctor shrugged. "You know," he continued, changing the subject, "Kutner just figured out what your name is." Kutner's cheeks began to burn red in embarrassment.

"That's pretty old news," Thirteen laughed.

"Well why did you expect me to know?" Kutner defended. "It's not like you ever tell us anything..."

At that moment, House barged in, dumping his backpack and coat on the floor as per usual. "Where's Foreman?" he asked loudly, directing himself at Thirteen.

"He's talking to Cuddy about getting some time off," she replied, unfazed as always.

"Oh, that's right! I heard about your little escapade with your stalker. I'm impressed. But then you had to go and ruin it by getting suspended."

Kutner and Taub appeared puzzled, so she explained. "I slugged Jeremy. Even loosened a few teeth. It was pretty gratifying."

"Yep," House added. "And I take it that Foreman saw this as an opportunity for some...eh hem...alone time?"

"Uh ha." Foreman then entered the room, and he and Thirteen exchanged welcoming glances.

"What did I miss?" he asked.

"It was great!" House exclaimed. "Your girlfriend gave Taub a lap dance!" Thirteen simply rolled her eyes at her boss. "Anyway, new case! Fifteen-year-old female presenting with a fever, swollen lymph nodes, chills, nausea, and decreased consciousness. Go."

"West Nile?" Thirteen suggested.

"Well, that's not good. Put her on anything that has shown promise in curing West Nile." Thirteen smiled to herself, thinking about what Foreman may have planed for the upcoming week. What she didn't realize was that House had seen her smile, and his curiosity had been piqued.

* * *

It was Thirteen's third day out of commission when House decided to go to her apartment. Four days earlier, she had smiled after diagnosing a patient with having a potentially fatal virus, who indeed had it and was currently being monitored at the hospital. He knew that his sole female employee wasn't that sadistic, but he was sure that something was up between she and Foreman. He hated being ignorant. He needed to find out. He banged on her door unceremoniously, and as he did so heard some incoherent clamoring from the opposite side. The door then swung open, revealing Thirteen with a black silk robe tied about her otherwise bare body. Her chest was heaving and her pupils were dilated. A thin sheen of sweat glistened over the skin that was exposed and her cheeks were flushed. House couldn't help but smirk as he silently prayed to a God he didn't believe in that he would get a chance to see her in this light again. The smell of sex-_good_ sex-was in the air.

Thirteen frowned instantly when she saw him. "What the hell are you doing here?" She proceeded to gesture with a hand in the air, but quickly drew it back when she noticed his eyes dart to her ring finger.

"So that's the big secret? An engagement?"

"Yes," she moaned in a disgruntled manner, quite a contrast from how she had done so only minutes before. "Now can you leave?"

"No," House replied. "Where's Foreman?"

"Not in a position to see you," She smirked back. "Now go." She was about to close the door when House stepped abruptly in her way.

"Cameron and Chase are, too, you know."

"Really?" Thirteen asked in disbelief.

"Yeah. He proposed yesterday."

"I know what you're doing. We have about four days on them."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. We were planning on telling everyone after my suspension. Let it slip and I'll knife you."

"I'd prefer a whip..."

"Goodbye, House," she said firmly, slamming the door in his face before he had time to say or do anything else. Thirteen made her way back to the bedroom, where Foreman was lounging.

"Who was that?" he questioned.

She said nothing, but her facial expression told him everything he needed to know. "He saw the ring."

"It's House. He was bound to figure it out."

"Yeah," she replied. "He just really pisses me off sometimes."

"You shouldn't dwell on it too much."

"No." After a few seconds of silence, her mouth twisted itself up from a contemplative frown into a seductive grin. "Anyway, where were we?" Thirteen asked as she slowly slipped her robe down over her skin.

Foreman's face echoed her own. "I think I remember."

**A/N:** Soooo how was it? Every writer thrives on reviews, so leave some, or I might carry out Thirteen's threat on the lot of you.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Sorry this is so short. A senior at my high school killed himself during school hours on May 5th, exactly a week ago, so life has been a bit weird for everyone. We were all evacuated to the middle school, and later they found over 30 rounds of ammo and cocktail bombs in the guy's locker. I'm not really at my best now, but I still hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for all the great reviews. When I started this, I had no clue that the story would be so popular.

* * *

**He May Never Return/A Changing Mood**

Barely an hour after House's visit, another loud knocking resounded through Thirteen's apartment. Foreman reluctantly dragged himself away from his fiancee, and she sighed at the loss of his warmth. "My turn," he smiled humorously.

"Yeah," Thirteen replied as he threw on a shirt and shorts. Foreman exited the bedroom and made his way to the door, half expecting to find House again, quipping about how he forgot to have the couple rate each other in bed. When the door did brush open, however, Foreman found that he couldn't have been further from the truth. The figure in the doorframe was the last he expected to see again.

"Jeremy?"

"Yes," he responded. The pair just stood for awhile in silent awkwardness, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Foreman was the first to break.

"What're you doing here?" His voice was firm, showcasing the underlying protectiveness for Thirteen.

"I heard the two of you are engaged."

"Yes, and nothing is going to change that."

"She's dying."

"And what are we doing, playing 'state the obvious'?"

"She's going to leave you out of pity. She's going to crush you in the future because she believes that's what's best. After Brock, I was the one who helped her through it. And just when I thought she was over it, when things started to get normal, she drops me."

"That was years ago," Foreman said, trying hard to act civilly.

"What did she do when she finally tested herself, huh? I wasn't there, but I can guarantee that my guess is right." Jeremy's voice rose with every word, his anger at his abandonment seeping into his voice. "She pushed everyone away, didn't she? Remy pushed everyone away and began to self-destruct. You should take your boss's advice. People don't change."

Foreman found himself incapable of speech, because indeed, he was right. At that moment, Thirteen approached the two men, again clad in her silken robe. Her mouth opened as if she meant to say something, but at seeing Jeremy, she closed it, only to speak seconds later. "You."

"Me," Jeremy said.

"I want you gone." Her words were fierce, revealing a side of her that was rarely seen.

"Much obliged. I was only here to deliver a warning." Jeremy turned on heel and walked away from the apartment, down the stairs and out of sight. As he did, Thirteen was sure that she would never see Jeremy Brennan again, but couldn't take pride in such emotions, having a sneaking suspicion as to why.

"He should be on suicide watch," she whispered as the door shut. Thirteen hugged her shoulders briefly, but then crossed her arms over her breasts.

"Suicide watch?" Foreman asked, genuinely confused.

"When we were kids, there was an incident," she elaborated. "It involved pills. Lots and lots of pills." She looked to the floor, and Foreman took the aversion of eye contact as his cue to take the topic no further. Instead, he kissed Thirteen gently.

"He sort of ruined the mood, didn't he?"

"What was he here about anyway? He said he was warning you."

"He told me," Foreman began hesitantly, "that you're your going to leave me to spare my feelings, whilst breaking my heart." Thirteen looked at him anxiously, hoping that he hadn't let Jeremy get to him. "But I didn't believe him for a second." They both smiled at each other, when Foreman's cell began to ring. "Hello?" he answered. "Oh yeah. I'll ask Remy." He removed the phone from his ear and turned to her. "Everyone's going out to celebrate Cameron and Chase's engagement. You want to go?"

"Why not?" she replied. "It could be a dual celebration, at least for us."

"We'll be there," Foreman said before hanging up.

"I'm gonna go put some clothes on," Thirteen said with a playful smile. "Peolple might stare if I turn up naked."

Foreman laughed and simply nodded in agreement.

**A/N:** This is sort of a filler, an in between thing, I promise the next chapter will be longer. Please, please review!


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Sorry it took so long to get this up, it's been almost two months I think. But anyway, this is the end, but I think I'll do and epilogue after this. Enjoy!

**The Move to Maturity**

"Hello?" Thirteen said, answering the phone.

"Hey!" replied the voice on the other end.

"Natalie, hi!"

"This weekend Brock and I are having a bit of a get together," Natalie stated excitedly. "Nothing formal, more of a backyard barbeque sort of thing. You and Eric want to come?"

"I'm not sure," Thirteen replied.

"Why not? Listen. This weekend is supposed to break record temperatures and we have a pool. It would only make sense to come."

"I'm sort of stuck at work, in the most literal sense."

"What, is the hospital being quarantined?" she joked.

"Actually, yes," Thirteen sighed, looking around her at the people wearing surgical masks. Her week of suspension had been quite relaxing, and the current excitement wasn't exactly wanted.

"Oh," Natalie replied.

"Yeah. Possible swine flu case came into the ER. No one gets in or out until it's cleared."

"Well, that's just great. Hope you guys get out soon. And don't get swine flu."

"It's just another strain of the flu," Thirteen deadpanned. "And thanks. We'll try to come."

"See you."

"Bye."

Thirteen hung up, and as she did, Kutner glanced questioningly at her from across the ER. "Was that your rapist's girlfriend?"

"Yes," she answered, realizing how odd it sounded. "She invited Foreman and I to a party."

"So you're going to a party with the rapist?"

"Maybe."

"I don't think I'll ever understand you."

"Well that's good. At least I'm still an enigma to someone," Thirteen said, thinking of how this one situation was enough to give House an all-access pass to her innermost thoughts and feelings. _That man can be so irritating._ Then, as if on cue, the doctor in question appeared, Foreman and Taub at his side.

"How is the soon to be Mrs. Foreman getting along?" he asked with a mocking tone to his voice.

"What?" Taub and Kutner both asked simultaneously, their heads shooting up. Foreman appeared completely indifferent to his boss's mocking, having endured it for so long, and Thirteen's face shone with annoyance.

"You're engaged?" Taub asked again, impatient.

"Yes," Foreman replied.

"We were planning to tell everyone today, but then this happened," Thirteen continued.

"Congratulations!" Cameron squealed, coming up from behind Kutner after having obviously overheard the conversation. She hugged Thirteen briefly, and the Foreman.

"Thanks," Thirteen said half-heartedly, slightly uncomfortable with the closeness. She supposed that she considered the other woman a friend, and Cameron's caring nature was just something she would have to become accustomed to.

"All this emotion is great," House cut in, "but really, is it necessary?" At that moment each of their pagers went off. Thirteen glanced at it and then smiled, seeing that the hospital was no longer under quarantine.

"Foreman," she began. "Natalie called."

* * *

Foreman and Thirteen pulled up to Brock and Natalie's home and stepped out of their car. "You look nervous," Foreman stated.

"That's because I am," Thirteen replied, glancing at the house, then back to him.

"There's nothing to worry about," he reassured her. "Go in ,swim, meet some people, and have fun. This is a party, remember?"

"Yeah," she said. "Let's go." Upon knocking on the door, they were greeted by a beaming Natalie.

"Great to see you could make it!"

"Same here," Thirteen replied warmly.

"Get your swim suits on, everyone's out back."

"Will do," Foreman said, entering, Thirteen in his wake.

Natalie guided them to the guest room, where they could change and leave their things, departing with a simple "See you in a bit."

When the door shut, Thirteen stripped herself of her camisole and shorts, revealing a black bikini. Foreman in turn changed into his swim trunks.

"Don't you think we're all a little old for a pool party?" she asked him.

"No," he replied. "Pools are fun."

"True."

"You look good in that, by the way."

"Why, thank you," Thirteen said before doing a mock curtsy. The couple made their way to the backyard, and upon arriving were greeted by the sounds of jovial conversations and Veruca Salt's _Volcano Girls _blasting from a stereo system. It was a fun, good natured song for such an event.

"There you are!" Natalie's voice chimed as she found Thirteen and Foreman. "This is Sarah," she said gesturing to the pretty redhead beside her, "my sister."

"Nice to meet you," Thirteen said. "I'm Remy, and this is Eric."

"And you, too," Sarah replied. "Natalie tells me you're both doctors."

"Yes," Foreman replied.

"Me, too. I'm at Princeton General."

"Princeton-Plainsboro," Thirteen supplied, smiling. The next hour or so progressed as such, making small talk between short stints in the pool. Much to Thirteen's surprise, however, Brock was nowhere to be found. Upon asking Natalie, she found that he was working overtime on a renovation and would arrive later.

"Are you apprehensive about seeing him?" she asked.

"No," Thirteen replied. "I've gotten over that. I was just curious." And like clockwork, Brock passed through the French doors and into the back yard. He kissed Natalie on the cheek and then turned to Thirteen.

"Remy! It's good to see you. Eric here?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Good to see you, too." She noticed that much of the awkwardness between she and him was gone, the tension, and the resentment with it. That was until he took off his shirt with the intention of jumping in the pool. It was then that she saw it, faint but there, right on the crook of his neck and shoulder, a scar in the shape of a jaw belonging to a sixteen-year-old Remy. Suddenly the moment flashed through her memory, that second, in the heat of the moment drenched with fear and pain, she had bitten him, in that exact spot, hard and long enough to draw blood. "I did that," she whispered, reaching out and running her finger along the scar. "I did that to you."

"Yeah," Brock replied. "And you had every reason to. You know, at the hospital when I saw you for the first time, I referred to you as 'sexy Remy Hadley'. Now when I think about it, it was really stupid and juvenile of me. I guess when I saw you, I was back in high school. But I'm not a teenager anymore and what I did, then and now, is inexcusable."

"Are you apologizing?" Thirteen asked in disbelief. She realized that if he was, she would end up forgiving him, whether she wanted to or not. But part of her sincerely wanted to, seeing as, in a way, he was right. He had been a teenager, a kid, and the person he was then is not the person he is now.

"Yes," he said. "I am."

"Then, I accept it." People's laughter still echoed across the pool and music, now the Foo Fighter's_ Everlong, _still played from the speakers, and she was still a doctor and still engaged to Foreman, she knew that with those four words, she somehow changed her life forever.

**A/N: **Please review! I swear, if you don't, I'll bring on the Cybermen invasion, and then we'll all end up dead because The Doctor(Doctor Who PWNS!) is a fictional character and won't be there to stop them. And we don't want that now, do we?


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Okay, here's the last of it *sheds tear*. I really just want to thank everyone who stuck with me all this time, especially those of you who were constant reviewers. This had been a fun ride. Now, about the chapter. Yes, it's short, but it's an epilogue, so it's okay. I actually had a very different ending in mind from this one, but I figured you'd all like this better. Personally, I don't think this is the best I can do. It's very fluffy, which is very different for me. Maybe sometime I'll post the alternative ending if I feel like it. You'll all have to tell me what you want, though. Also, review this as always. Enjoy!

**Epilogue**

Thirteen smiled nervously as she strode at a steady pace down the aisle between rows of folding chairs in the garden. On one side were their colleagues and the few members of her family she still kept in touch with, on the other, Foreman's immediate family, even his mother, wracked with Alzheimer's. They had wanted a small ceremony, nothing overly lavish or ornate, but something simple and intimate. To her left, his arm laced with hers, was not her father; their relationship had fallen apart after her mother died, but Wilson. She recalled fondly how she and Foreman had first asked House to escort her, and he gawked at the very notion. He was there though, sitting next to Cuddy as she held Rachel. She smiled when she saw the child, reminding her of the day she told Foreman she wanted children. Ahead of her, Thirteen saw a tuxedo clad Foreman, who had opted to go best man-less, standing next to the minister, his expression echoing her own. She glanced down briefly at her unelaborate white dress, clinging to each of her shoulders by spaghetti straps.

The next time Thirteen looked forward, Wilson had peeled off and she was at the makeshift altar, beside her soon-to-be husband. Chancing one more look back, she saw two people she hadn't expected to see. There, in the front row, sat Brock and Natalie, both beaming in her direction. She smiled back sincerely, genuinely happy to see them there, something that only a few months ago, she would have thought impossible. She turned back around to feel Foreman squeezing her hand. The minister took a deep breath. "Do you, Eric Foreman, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

Foreman looked deeply into her eyes and smiled. "I do."

The minister then turned to Thirteen. "And do you, Remy Hadley, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?"

Thirteen's voice momentarily caught in her throat and she felt like she was about to shed tears of pure and absolute joy. "I do," she said. Then, without waiting for the go ahead, she and Foreman kissed long and passionately, only to elicit applause from the crowd. The minister shook his head in slight disapproval, causing her to laugh against her new husbands lips. They then parted and walked back down the aisle, their grins uncontainable.

* * *

The reception was outdoors as well, with tables set up under a small white tent by a pond, the dace floor a long, wide platform, at the head of which was a band of twenty-somethings featuring a vocalist who doubled on guitars, a drummer, a guitarist, and a bassist. Everyone watched as the newlyweds took their first dance to the Foo Fighter's _Everlong, _by Thirteen's request. After a bit, when other couples began to join them, Thirteen saw Brock and Natalie begin to dance. She was instantly struck by a memory. This song, this very song, was the one playing when Brock apologized to her, and she couldn't help thinking how funny it was that things worked out that way. Before turning her attention back to Foreman, she notice House and Cuddy dancing together, their colleagues standing around, dumbstruck, watching them. "Look at that," Thirteen sniggered, nodding her head in the other couple's direction.

"What a spectacle," Foreman replied, both of them now laughing. And it was then, caught up in her happiness, that Thirteen thought that maybe, just maybe, everything would somehow be okay.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** I said I'd have an alternative ending, so here it is, the real last chapter. I really have to say that I like this one better. It's much darker and doesn't exactly provide a happy ending for Thirteen and Foreman. It centers on a minor detail, so I hope all of you read chapter eleven fairly carefully. I only got two reviews on the last chapter, so I'm expecting more for this one. Enjoy!

**Alternate Epilogue**

Thirteen and Foreman sat on the couch in Thirteen's apartment, excitedly planning their wedding day. "This venue's beautiful," she commented, looking at the garden in which the ceremony was to be held.

"Yeah, it really is," her husband-to-be replied. "And now for the guest list."

"I was thinking just your close family and everyone from work. Maybe some friends."

"What about your family?"

"Since my mom... my relationships with most of my relatives have fallen apart."

To her relief, Foreman nodded in understanding. "In that case, there's something I should warn you about. My mom, she has Alzheimer's. Just, don't be surprised if she can't remember my name; if she's not aware of the fact that she's at her own son's wedding."

Thirteen sighed, partially in sympathy, partially in shock. She knew what it was like to lose a parent to disease, but she had never imagined that Foreman shared the same burden. "Alright. I know what you mean exactly."

"You said you wanted to invite some friends. Who'd you have in mind?"

"Natalie. And Brock."

Foreman smiled. "Okay. They'll be there."

Just then, a knock came at their door. It wasn't the friendly rapping of a neighbor or the hurried banging of a delivery man. It was loud and desperate and alarming, begging for the door to be opened. That was why, when Thirteen opened it, she assumed someone was hurt, seeing as many people in the complex knew that their apartment was occupied by not one, but now two doctors. It wasn't uncommon for a parent to bring a sick or inured child, asking for advice. When the door swung open however, that was very much not the case. She was greeted by a anguished looking Jeremy Brennan, who as soon as he saw her, placed a knife to his throat and quickly slit it.

"Oh my god," was all she was able to squeeze from between her lips as he fell to the wood paneled floor and the blood began to flow. "Foreman!" He dashed the few yards to where Thirteen stood, and gasped when he saw Jeremy.

"I'll call an ambulance!" he shouted running back to where he left his phone. Thirteen on the other hand could do nothing. She was numb, only vaguely aware of who she was, where she was, and whose corpse rested on the ground beneath her. What she did know, all she could think about, was that she knew why it happened, and she knew it had everything to do with her. Thirteen did not begin to cry as Foreman returned to her side. She would not cry. She could not hear the things he said to her, regardless of his intent to comfort. When the paramedics arrived at their doorway with the stretcher, there still she stood. Only as her childhood friend was being taken away did she allow a single tear to reach the surface. Thirteen then literally collapsed into Foreman, who guided her to the couch, sat her down, and allowed her to lean into him as he held her.

"Why did he have to do it here?" Foreman whispered, barely audibly, with only sadness in his voice.

"Because of me," she replied, just as silently. And the cycle of guilt begins again.

* * *

**A/N: **I don't know about you guys, but I love it when a character who should be a protagonist ends up as an antagonist and vice versa, like Snape from Harry Potter (movie premiers tomorrow. yayy!) or they're sort of neutral. So please, review or shall have to retire from fan fiction permanently due to lack of self esteem. Please don't kill my self esteem.


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